December 21st, 1971
Lily took a deep breath as she exited the common room alongside Mary. Since the attack, David had been insistent that all of the Circle travel in groups when they could. Lily would admit that she was shaken since the attack. It was the first time she had ever faced something like this. Even when she was in Muggle school, she'd never had any sort of fight. She'd been bullied for her red hair—well, they tried to, but when she gave them a piece of her mind and the teachers found out, it never happened again.
Now, when she looked back and remembered the fight, it was a blur, as if it happened outside of her body. The dodging and shielding felt like it happened in a mere moment, everything moving too fast to properly think about. Her body had just moved, responding on instinct and training, her wand casting spells she barely remembered deciding to use.
But when David arrived, that felt like it dragged on forever. She could still see all of it in picture-perfect clarity.
The way the temperature had dropped so suddenly her breath misted. The three curses stopping mid-air like someone had pressed pause on the world itself. The absolute coldness in David's eyes—not angry, not furious, just cold in a way that made something in Lily's stomach twist with an emotion she couldn't quite name.
Not fear. Not exactly. David would never hurt her. She knew that with the same certainty she knew her own name.
But seeing what he could do, what he was capable of when someone threatened his people...
The mud golems rising from the pure-bloods' own blood. The slow, terrible climb toward their faces. The sounds they'd made—those desperate, animal sounds of pure terror.
Lily had watched it happen and felt glad. Felt satisfied in a way that probably should have scared her but didn't. They'd tried to kill her and Severus. They'd cast curses that could have blown them into pieces, crushed them, ended their lives. All because she was Muggleborn and Severus had chosen to stand with her.
They deserved what David did to them.
But the memory of his face—that frozen, merciless expression—still made her shiver sometimes when she thought about it too long.
"You alright, Lils?" Mary asked quietly as they walked down the corridor toward the fifth floor. "You went all quiet."
Lily blinked, shaking off the memories. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About the meeting?" Mary's voice dropped even lower, though the corridor was mostly empty. Students were at dinner or in their common rooms. "David said it was important. That everyone needed to be there."
"Probably," Lily said. She touched her face reflexively—Madam Pomfrey had healed the boils completely, but Lily could still remember how they'd felt. Hot and angry and humiliating. "Do you know what it's about?"
Mary shook her head, her dark curls bouncing. "But I can guess. After what happened to you and Severus..." She trailed off, glancing around to make sure they were truly alone. "The whole school's been talking about it. Well, whispering about it. Nobody knows the details, but everyone knows something happened."
That was true. Lily had felt eyes on her for the past two days—in the corridors, in classes, in the Great Hall. Students staring, then quickly looking away when she noticed. Whispered conversations that stopped abruptly when she walked past.
The official story, according to Professor McGonagall's tight-lipped announcement, was that there had been "an altercation" and "appropriate disciplinary measures" had been taken. Mulciber, Nott, and Avery had lost fifty points each and had detention for the rest of term.
But the real story—the whispered one, the one spreading like wildfire through the student body—was much more dramatic. Lily had heard at least five different versions in the past two days alone.
Some said David Price had dueled all three sixth-years at once and won without breaking a sweat. Others claimed he'd used some kind of ancient dark magic that left them screaming. One particularly wild rumor insisted he'd summoned demons made of blood and shadow.
The truth was somewhere in the middle, Lily supposed. Though not that far off from the demon rumor, really. The mud golems had been pretty terrifying.
None of the rumors mentioned her and Severus's names specifically, which she was grateful for. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of attention, to have everyone staring and pitying her for being attacked, or worse—asking questions she couldn't answer about what exactly had happened.
David had been very clear: "Don't discuss the details with anyone outside The Circle. What happened is between us, the Headmaster, and those three cowards. Let them spread whatever rumors they want—uncertainty is more powerful than facts."
Lily hadn't quite understood what he meant at first. But over the past two days, watching the rumors mutate and grow, watching how students gave her and Severus more space in the corridors, how even older students seemed wary...
She was starting to understand.
They reached the blank wall on the fifth floor. Mary pulled out her wand and tapped three times, and the familiar black doors materialized, swinging open silently.
The Circle's room was already full.
Lily's breath caught slightly. She'd never seen it this crowded before. Usually their meetings had maybe ten or twelve people—the core members, the ones who came regularly. But today, it looked like everyone was here. At least twenty students, maybe more, scattered throughout the space. First-years to seventh-years, all different houses, all different backgrounds.
All Muggleborn or half-blood or sympathetic to the cause.
The sitting area was packed, every chair taken and students sitting on the arms or perched on the low table. The practice area had people standing in small clusters, talking quietly. Even the meeting table was surrounded by students, some sitting on it since there weren't enough chairs.
The conversation was a low buzz, dozens of voices blending together. Lily caught fragments as she and Mary wove through the crowd toward where she could see Severus standing near the fireplace:
"—heard it was some kind of blood magic—"
"—three sixth-years, can you imagine—"
"—Price doesn't mess around, does he—"
"—about time someone stood up to those pure-blood—"
Severus spotted her and raised a hand. She pushed through the crowd toward him, Mary following close behind.
"There's so many people," Lily said when she reached him, keeping her voice low. "I've never seen this many here before."
Severus nodded, his dark eyes scanning the room. "Word spread. About what happened. About what David did." He looked at her seriously. "People are scared. But they're also... I don't know. Inspired, maybe? Wanting to be part of something that actually fights back."
Lily understood what he meant. The fear was palpable in the room—you could see it in the way students clustered together, in the nervous glances toward the door, in how some of the younger ones stayed close to older Circle members.
But there was something else too. An energy. An excitement that crackled through the conversations like electricity.
David had proven something two nights ago. He'd proven that Muggleborns didn't have to just take it. That there were consequences for pure-blood cruelty. That someone was willing to actually do something instead of just talking about how unfair everything was.
"Has he said anything to you?" Mary asked Severus quietly. "About what he's going to talk about?"
Severus shook his head. "Just that everyone needed to be here. That it was important."
The conversations around them started to quiet, the buzz of voices dropping to whispers and then to silence.
Lily turned.
David had entered through the doors, which swung shut behind him with a soft, final sound. He stood there for a moment, surveying the crowded room, his grey eyes moving from face to face with that intense focus he had. Taking in every person present. Acknowledging them.
He looked different than he had two nights ago. The terrible coldness was gone from his expression, replaced by something warmer. But there was still something harder in his eyes than there'd been before. Or maybe Lily was just noticing it now, now that she'd seen what that hardness could become when someone threatened his people.
He was wearing his school robes, perfectly neat as always, his dark hair brushed back from his face. He looked like a fourth-year student. Fourteen years old. Just another Hogwarts student in house colors.
But when he started walking toward the center of the room, the crowd parted for him like water. Students stepped aside instinctively, creating a path, and the silence deepened until Lily could hear her own breathing.
David stopped in the open space between the sitting area and the practice zone. Central. Visible to everyone. He didn't raise his voice, didn't make any dramatic gestures. He just stood there, calm and steady, and waited until he had everyone's complete attention.
Which took about three seconds.
"Thank you all for coming," David said, and his voice carried clearly through the silent room despite being barely above conversational volume. "I know some of you have been here since the beginning. Others joined more recently. And some of you—" his eyes swept across a few faces Lily didn't recognize, newer members she hadn't met yet, "—are here for the first time tonight."
He paused, letting that settle.
"Regardless of when you joined, regardless of how long you've been part of The Circle, you all know why we exist. You've all felt it—the casual cruelty, the institutional prejudice, the daily indignities of being told you're lesser because of blood you didn't choose." His voice remained calm, but there was passion underneath it. Fire banked but burning. "You've all asked the same questions I asked when I first came to Hogwarts. Why is it like this? Who decided this was acceptable? And what can we do about it?"
Lily found herself nodding slightly, along with others around her. Those were the questions. The ones that had brought her to The Circle in the first place, the ones that still burned in her chest whenever she heard someone use that word, whenever she saw the way pure-bloods looked at her.
"Two nights ago," David continued, his voice dropping slightly, becoming more intimate, "three sixth-year pure-blood students cornered two of our first-years in a corridor. Lily Evans and Severus Snape."
Lily felt eyes turn toward her and Severus. She resisted the urge to shrink back, to make herself smaller. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, standing straighter. They weren't victims. They'd fought.
"Those three students—Mulciber, Nott, and Avery—escalated from insults to hexes to curses that could have killed," David said, and his voice stayed level, factual, but Lily heard the controlled anger underneath. "They cast Confringo. The Blasting Curse. At eleven-year-olds."
The room erupted in shocked murmurs, gasps, angry whispers. Even those who'd heard rumors looked startled by the confirmation, by hearing it stated so baldly.
David waited for the noise to quiet before continuing.
"They did this because Lily is Muggleborn. Because Severus chose to stand with her instead of accepting his 'place' as a half-blood who should know better." His grey eyes swept the room. "They did this because they believed there would be no consequences. Because there never have been consequences before. Because the system protects them and their cruelty."
The silence now was different. Heavier. Angrier.
"But they were wrong," David said, and now his voice carried steel. "There are consequences. There will be consequences. Every time. For anyone who threatens members of The Circle or any who is defenseless against the current system."
Lily felt the fire run through her veins. The same fire she'd felt when Sev and her had bested those Slytherins, even if only briefly. It was vindicating to know that they would make sure that another person like her didn't face anymore attacks from cruel people. That she wasn't alone. That someone—David, The Circle, all of them together—would actually do something instead of just telling her to keep her head down and wait for things to get better.
David began to pace now, his movements controlled but powerful, like a caged lion. Every eye in the room tracked him.
"When I formed this Circle, I hoped I would find like-minded individuals who look at injustice and say no more!" His voice rose, passion breaking through the controlled calm. "To accept injustice is the height of cowardice! By doing nothing about injustice, you are complicit!"
He stopped, turning to face them all, and roared: "Complicit!"
The word echoed off the stone walls, seemed to shake the very air.
The Circle swelled with sound—voices raised in agreement, fists pumping, students calling out "Yes!" and "Exactly!" and other words of fierce support. Lily found herself nodding vigorously, her hands clenched at her sides. Mary beside her had tears in her eyes. Severus's jaw was set, his dark eyes burning.
David let the sound build for a moment before raising one hand. Silence fell instantly.
"Many would say that we are young, still in school—what would we know?" David's voice carried to every corner of the room, clear and strong and absolutely certain. "What do we think we can do to change it? I say everything!"
The room erupted again, louder this time.
"It is here in these walls that knowledge is shared!" David continued over the noise, his voice rising to match it. "It is in these walls that our minds are honed to a sword's edge! It is here where the dawn of a new path for the Wizarding World can begin!"
Lily felt her breath coming faster. Her heart was pounding. This was it. This was what she'd been feeling since that first meeting, what she'd been unable to put into words. The sense that they were standing at the beginning of something enormous, something that would change everything.
"This attack has vindicated us in a way nothing else could!" David's grey eyes blazed as he looked around the room, seeming to meet every single person's gaze. "We are right! We are what is needed for all beings—magical and not—to thrive and find a way where eleven-year-olds do not fear pain or death at the hands of the bigoted and cruel!"
Yes. Yes. Lily wanted to shout it, wanted to scream her agreement. Beside her, students were doing exactly that—voices rising in a chorus of support and fury and determination all mixed together.
David raised both hands now, and the room fell silent again. Waiting. Hanging on his every word.
"We are The Circle," he said, and his voice had dropped but somehow carried even more power in its quietness. "And we will do what needs to be done to mend the world. Because we do not fight out of hate or cruelty or hunger for power."
He paused, letting the silence stretch taut as a bowstring.
"We fight from necessity!"
And then, louder, his voice ringing through the room like a bell:
"Ex necessitate!"
"EX NECESSITATE!" the room roared back, and Lily's voice was part of it, shouting the words with everyone else, her throat raw but not caring, her fist raised with Mary's and Severus's and twenty others.
"Ex necessitate!" they shouted again, and again, the words becoming a chant, a promise, a vow.
Lily felt tears on her cheeks and realized she was crying, but she wasn't sad. She was the opposite of sad. She was full—full of purpose and belonging and the absolute certainty that this was right, that they were right, that everything David said was true.
They were going to change the world.
They were going to make it so no one else had to be afraid. No one else had to die because magic was hidden. No one else had to be called that word, treated as lesser, attacked in corridors by people who thought they could get away with it.
The chanting continued, filling the room, filling Lily's chest until she thought she might burst with it.
David let it go on for several moments before raising his hands again. The chanting died down slowly, reluctantly, like a fire being banked rather than extinguished. The energy in the room was electric, crackling, alive.
"This is just the beginning," David said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. "What happened two nights ago proved something we already knew—that the old guard will fight to maintain their power. That they'll hurt us, threaten us, try to silence us through fear and violence."
He looked around the room, his expression serious.
"But it also proved that we can fight back. That we're not helpless. Lily and Severus held their own against three sixth-years using nothing but first-year spells and tactical thinking." His eyes found Lily and Severus, and the pride in them made Lily's chest swell. "They should be an inspiration to every one of us. Age doesn't matter. Year doesn't matter. What matters is courage. Training. Determination. And the knowledge that you're not alone."
Lily felt more eyes turn toward her and Severus. This time she didn't want to shrink back. This time she stood taller, shoulders back, meeting the gazes with her chin up.
They'd fought. They'd survived. They had nothing to be ashamed of.
"From this year onwards, our Circle will take another step forward to our purpose, to our goal," David continued, his voice carrying a new intensity. "We will continue to learn as we have, but we will expand our repertoire. We will move from purely defense to offense as well."
A ripple went through the crowd—excitement, nervousness, anticipation all mixed together.
"We will become more active in our defense," David clarified, and Lily heard the careful distinction he was making. "Not attack—we are not them. But we will ensure that it is known we are not to be pushed. That there are consequences for cruelty. That Muggleborns and half-bloods and magical creatures are not helpless victims waiting to be saved."
He gestured to three students standing near the edge of the crowd. Lily recognized Ted Tonks, a seventh-year Hufflepuff with kind eyes and an easy smile. Finola Finnegan, the fierce Irish seventh-year Gryffindor with hair almost as red as Lily's. And a tall blonde girl wearing Slytherin robes Lily didn't know—sixth or seventh year, maybe, with sharp features and an intense expression.
"After this year ends," David said, and something in his voice shifted—became more serious, more weighty, "for the first time, those of the Circle will leave the walls of Hogwarts as graduates and begin building in the outside world."
The room went very quiet. Lily felt her breath catch.
This wasn't just about school anymore. This wasn't just about protecting students in corridors or learning defensive spells. This was about something bigger.
"They will find like-minded people," David continued, his grey eyes sweeping across the assembled students. "People who have felt the boot of the current regime on their throats. People who have been denied jobs because their blood wasn't pure enough. People who have watched their children face discrimination in shops, in the Ministry, in every corner of our society."
His voice grew more passionate with each word, and Lily found herself leaning forward, hanging on every syllable.
"They will find the voiceless," David said, and now his voice rang through the room like a bell. "The tired. The broken. The ones who've given up hope that anything will ever change. The ones who've learned to keep their heads down and accept injustice because fighting back has always seemed impossible."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"They will find these people," David said quietly, but with absolute conviction, "and give them a message."
Another pause. The silence was electric.
"You are alone no longer."
Lily felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
"The Circle is coming," David continued, his voice building again. "Join us and help turn the tide of tradition and oppression!"
The room erupted.
Students were on their feet, shouting, cheering, some crying. The sound was overwhelming—voices raised in agreement, in excitement, in the fierce joy of belonging to something that mattered. That would change things. That would make a difference.
Lily was shouting too, her voice joining the chorus, her fist raised alongside Mary's and Severus's. Her throat was raw but she didn't care. Her eyes were wet but she didn't care about that either.
This was real. This was happening.
They weren't just students learning spells in a hidden room anymore. They were the beginning of something enormous. Something that would spread beyond Hogwarts, beyond school, into the real world where real people faced real oppression every single day.
And they were going to change it.
Ted Tonks was grinning, his arm around Finola's shoulders as she pumped her fist in the air. The blonde girl had a fierce smile on her face, her eyes bright with determination. Around them, older students were embracing, younger ones were jumping and cheering, everyone caught up in the moment, in the vision David had painted.
"Ex necessitate!" someone shouted—Lily thought it might have been Dirk.
"EX NECESSITATE!" the room roared back, the words becoming a chant again, even stronger than before.
"Ex necessitate! Ex necessitate! Ex necessitate!"
Lily shouted it until her voice cracked, until she couldn't shout anymore, and then she kept mouthing the words because she couldn't not participate, couldn't not be part of this moment.
David stood at the center of it all, watching them with that same satisfied expression. Like he'd known exactly how they'd react. Like he'd orchestrated this perfectly—the timing, the words, the building emotion.
And maybe he had, Lily thought. Maybe that was part of what made him such a good leader. He understood people. Understood how to inspire them, how to make them feel like they were part of something important.
How to make them willing to fight.
The chanting continued for what felt like forever, the sound filling the room, filling Lily's chest, filling every corner of her awareness until nothing existed except this moment, these people, this purpose.
When it finally began to die down—voices going hoarse, energy sustaining but transforming into something more focused—David raised his hands again.
"This is just the beginning," he said, and his voice was steady, certain, absolute. "By the time we're done, the entire wizarding world will know The Circle exists. Will know what we stand for. Will know that oppression and bigotry and casual cruelty will no longer be tolerated."
He looked around the room, meeting eyes, acknowledging everyone.
"We have work to do," David said. "Years of work. But we start tonight. We start with training, with learning, with becoming the best versions of ourselves we can be. Because when we step into that larger world—" he gestured toward the seventh-years, "—when we begin building this movement in earnest, we need to be ready. We need to be strong. We need to be undeniable."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"And because we have taken this next step," David said, and something in his voice shifted—became almost ceremonial, "I thought it was time for a symbol to rally around. Something that represents everything we stand for. Everything we're fighting to build."
He raised his wand, pointing it toward the high ceiling of the room.
"Aparecium Maxima."
A massive banner unfurled from the ceiling with a sound like thunder, rolling down the stone wall in a cascade of deep crimson fabric. It was enormous—easily fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide—and as it settled into place, Lily's breath caught.
The symbol.
It was beautiful and strange and powerful all at once.
At the center was a perfect circle, rendered in brilliant gold that seemed to shimmer and move in the firelight. But it wasn't a simple ring—the circle itself was made up of smaller shapes and symbols woven together, so detailed Lily couldn't make out individual pieces from where she stood. Inside that, another ring of what looked like letters or runes, flowing continuously around and around.
Within the circles, the main design emerged.
Two triangles, overlapping perfectly. One pointing upward—bright gold, sharp and clear. One pointing downward—slightly darker, like shadow cast over light. Together they formed a six-pointed star, the kind Lily had seen in some of her mum's old books, though she couldn't remember what it was called.
At the very center, where the points of both triangles met, was a single dot—or maybe an eye, depending on how the firelight caught it. It seemed to watch the room, aware and purposeful.
Around the outer edge at four points—top, bottom, left, right—were smaller symbols Lily didn't recognize. Strange shapes that might have been letters in some ancient language, or maybe pictures of something she'd learn about in later years.
Beneath the entire design, in bold script that even first-years could read, two words:
EX NECESSITATE
The room had gone completely silent, every eye fixed on the banner.
"The circle," David said, his voice reverent but strong, "represents unity. Wholeness. The perfection of our purpose. We are all equal within it—Muggleborn, half-blood, magical creature, anyone who stands against oppression. The circle has no beginning, no end. We are one."
Lily felt tears pricking at her eyes. The symbolism was perfect. So perfect it made her chest ache.
"The upward triangle," David continued, beginning to pace slowly, his eyes never leaving the banner, "represents the magical world. Fire, spirit, magic itself—reaching upward toward enlightenment, toward power, toward our full potential."
Students nodded, murmured agreement.
"The downward triangle," David said, and his voice took on more intensity, "represents the material world. The world of Muggles, yes—but also earth, water, the physical reality we all inhabit. Grounded. Practical. Real."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Separate, they are incomplete," David said quietly. "The magical world, isolated, becomes stagnant. Self-absorbed. Turned inward until it rots from within." His voice hardened. "And the material world, without magic, faces problems it cannot solve. Wars it cannot end. Suffering it cannot prevent."
He turned to face them fully, the massive banner behind him.
"But together—" his voice rose, passionate and certain, "—together they form the hexagram. The Star of David. Perfect integration. Perfect balance. The two becoming one. Magic and material, wizard and Muggle, all of humanity elevated to what we could be if we stopped hiding from each other."
Lily's hand went unconsciously to her chest, her heart hammering with the rightness of it.
"The alchemical symbols," David continued, gesturing to the cardinal points, "represent transformation. The Great Work—turning base metal into gold. But we're not transforming materials." His grey eyes burned with conviction. "We're transforming society. Breaking down the artificial barriers between magical and non-magical. Creating something new from the corrupt old. This is our alchemy."
"Yes," someone breathed—Lily thought it was Mary.
"And at the center," David said softly, pointing to the meeting point of the triangles, "the eye. The point. The focus of all our purpose. We see what others refuse to see. We understand what others refuse to understand. We act when others choose inaction."
He turned back to them, the banner framing him like something from legend.
"This is our symbol," David said, and his voice was thick with emotion now—real emotion, not just rhetoric. "This is what we fight for. Integration. Transformation. The elevation of all humanity—magical and non-magical alike. Not conquest. Not domination. Evolution."
The room erupted again, but this time it was different. Not a cheer, not a chant—something deeper. A roar of recognition, of belonging, of seeing themselves reflected in gold and crimson on that banner. Of understanding that they mattered.
Lily was crying openly now, not even trying to hide it. So was Mary beside her, and half the other students too. Severus's eyes were suspiciously bright, his jaw clenched tight.
David let the moment build, let it crest like a wave, before raising his hands again.
"I have one more thing," he said, and now there was a hint of warmth in his voice—affection, even. "A gift for each of you. For every member of The Circle."
He gestured toward the long table where they usually studied, and Lily's eyes widened.
Small boxes were arranged in neat rows across its surface—easily twenty or more, each one identical. Simple wooden boxes, unadorned, the size that might hold a piece of jewelry.
"Come forward," David said gently. "Find the one with your name."
There was a moment of hesitation, then movement. Students approached the table slowly, almost reverently, searching for their names among the boxes.
Lily found hers between Mary MacDonald and Severus Snape—alphabetical order, she realized. Her hands trembled slightly as she picked it up. The wood was smooth beneath her fingers, warm like it had been held recently.
She glanced at Severus, who'd just found his own box. His dark eyes were wide with something that might have been wonder.
"Open them," David said.
Lily lifted the lid.
Inside, nestled in dark velvet, was a necklace.
The chain was delicate silver, fine enough to be elegant but strong enough to withstand daily wear. And hanging from it, rendered in the same silver but catching the light like it held tiny stars within the metal, was the symbol from the banner.
Perfect miniature replica—the alchemical circle, the overlapping triangles forming the hexagram, the central point, all of it captured in silver smaller than her thumb but detailed enough that she could see every element clearly.
It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned.
Around her, students were gasping, exclaiming, holding up their necklaces to the light. Some were already fastening them around their necks, fingers fumbling with the delicate clasps.
"These are yours," David said, his voice cutting through the excited chatter. "Yours to wear, yours to keep. A reminder of what we stand for. Of who you are—not what others say you are, but who you choose to be."
Lily lifted the necklace from its box with trembling fingers, the chain sliding through her hands like liquid silver.
"There's one more thing," David continued, and now his voice took on a more serious note. "These necklaces are enchanted."
The room quieted immediately, everyone's attention snapping back to him.
"If you're ever in danger," David said slowly, clearly, "if you ever need help and there's no one near to hear you call—hold the symbol tight and say 'Auxilium.' Help. The necklace will send an alert to every other necklace. Every member of The Circle will know you need them."
Lily's breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the pendant.
"Distance doesn't matter," David continued. "Whether you're in Hogsmeade or London or anywhere else—the call will reach us. And we will come. Because that's what we do. We protect each other. We stand together."
His grey eyes swept across the room, meeting as many gazes as he could.
"You are never alone," David said, and it was a promise. A vow. "Not anymore. Not ever again. The Circle has your back. Always."
Someone made a choking sound—might have been Ted Tonks, the usually jovial seventh-year looking suspiciously emotional. Finola wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, not even trying to hide the tears.
Lily looked down at the necklace in her palm. Such a small thing. Such a delicate piece of silver.
But it meant everything.
It meant she wasn't alone. Meant Severus wasn't alone. Meant that every Muggleborn who'd ever been called a slur, every half-blood who'd been made to feel lesser, every person who'd been told they didn't belong—they all had each other now.
She fastened the chain around her neck with shaking fingers. The pendant settled against her collarbone, cool at first, then warming to her skin. She could feel it there—a comforting weight, a constant reminder.
Around her, other students were doing the same. Silver chains glinting in the firelight, symbols catching and reflecting the light like tiny beacons.
Mary had hers on already, her fingers touching the pendant with something like reverence. Severus's was fastened too, though he was trying to tuck it beneath his robes—habit, Lily knew, from hiding anything that mattered from his Slytherin housemates.
David stood before them all, watching as his gift was received, as his symbol was worn. And on his face was an expression Lily had never quite seen before.
Pride, yes. Satisfaction, certainly.
But also something softer. Something that looked almost like love.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and the words seemed to encompass everything—their trust, their loyalty, their willingness to follow him into whatever came next. "Thank you for being part of this. For choosing to stand when it would be easier to sit. For choosing to fight when it would be safer to hide."
He paused, his hand going unconsciously to his own chest—where Lily suspected he wore a matching necklace beneath his robes.
"Together," David said, "we're going to change the world."
And looking around at the faces of her fellow Circle members—at their determination, their hope, their fierce joy in belonging to something that mattered—Lily believed him.
They were going to change everything.
The meeting wound down after that, though no one seemed eager to leave. Students clustered in small groups, comparing necklaces, talking in hushed excited voices about the banner, about the seventh-years leaving, about what it all meant.
Lily stayed close to Severus and Mary, the three of them gravitating toward one of the comfortable chairs by the fire. None of them spoke much—they didn't need to. The weight of the evening hung over them all, too big for words.
Lily's fingers kept returning to the pendant at her throat. Touching it. Making sure it was real. Making sure this had actually happened.
David moved through the room, stopping to speak with various members, his hand on shoulders, his words quiet and personal. Lily watched him interact with the seventh-years for a long time—serious conversation, planning already beginning for what would happen after they graduated.
"It's really happening," Mary said softly. "Isn't it? This isn't just... this is going to be real. Outside Hogwarts. In the actual world."
"Yeah," Lily breathed. "It is."
Severus was quiet, his dark eyes fixed on the banner still hanging on the wall, the alchemical symbol glowing in the firelight.
"Do you think we'll win?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lily looked at him, then at Mary, then around the room at all the other students wearing their silver necklaces, their faces bright with hope and determination.
She thought about Mulciber and Nott and Avery, about the terror in their eyes when David had shown them there were consequences. About pure-blood students who'd spent their whole lives believing they were superior, learning they were wrong.
She thought about the world David described—integrated, equal, transformed. Where no one cared about blood status, where magic and technology worked together, where suffering was prevented instead of ignored.
"Yes," Lily said, and meant it with every fiber of her being. "I think we will."
The pendant against her collarbone seemed to warm at the words, as if responding to her conviction.
The Circle was coming.
And the world would never be the same.
o–o–o–o